A Thirst For Revenge
by Dryad Warrior Queen
Summary: Revenge will be had, one day. T to be safe


Macduff was not an idiot. Aye, it had been foolish of him to leave his castle virtually undefended; an error which had cost him greatly. But overall, he was not an idiot.

Apparently, though, there were those who took him for one. Had they really thought he would assume one man could destroy his life so easily? Macbeth, may-he-rot-in-Hell-and-have-his-intestines-repeate dly-eaten-by-a-falcon, had been a coward with a superiority complex. There was no chance Macbeth had been the one to physically murder his family.

As King Malcolm's coronation feast took place in the hall beneath him, Macduff had other things on his mind more pertinent to him than eating, drinking, and merry-making. Dunsinane had been cleansed of the tyrant's presence while the newly-made king and earls had gone to Scone. Thinking of the mighty task the removal of bodies and thorough cleaning had been made Macduff's head ache with the thought. Fife had been laid to waste, no more than a blackened husk of its former glory, alive with the laughter and shouts of children and the calm orders of its worthy lady.

Siward could take comfort in his son's death, one full of honor and courage. Macduff's children had likely been killed where they stood, unable to defend themselves, let alone each other. Siward, who could both mourn and celebrate his son's death, one born of a desire to do something worthwhile. Macduff looked away from the festivities, unable to face their joy while his own heart ached as though it had been pulled still beating from his chest.

Macduff turned his thoughts elsewhere, towards less painful subjects. Such as revenge. Revenge fuelled his being, his every action. Yes, the man behind the murders had received his due, but he was not the only guilty party. There were any number of murderers and thieves in Scotland, and Macduff was slowly formulating their demises. He would not make them suffer over much, but they would die. Let no one doubt that.

The sound of boots on the stone battlements roused Macduff from his dark musings. He looked up to see who else had taken their leave of the king. Ross stepped into view, the newly placed chain marking him the latest thane – or earl, as it were – of Cawdor glinting on his chest.

Ross started at the sight of the silent earl of Fife who watched him expressionlessly.

"Evening, good cousin! If I may ask, what brings you so far from light, food, and of course, our king?"

"Solitude and the pursuit of peace of mind," Macduff grunted. "And you, Ross?"

"Only a moment to take the airs." Macduff barked out a hollow laugh. The air still bore the slight stench of rotting flesh, courtesy of the now eyeless head of Macbeth on its pike above them.

"Aye, I suppose any man would do the same. And how fares our king?"

"Drunk, both on fine ale and success. My lord Siward lies in much the same state, drowning his sorrows."

"He at least can give his son a proper burial," Macduff muttered bitterly.

"Be at peace, good cousin," Ross replied. "The perpetrator of your misery is dead."

"Is he?" Macduff questioned, turning once more toward Ross. His eyes were dark and burning with barely suppressed rage and Ross took a step back.

"Of course he is; you yourself killed him." Macduff laughed, startling Ross once more. It was an altogether unpleasant laugh, filled with rage and bitterness and not a small amount of madness.

"I did, didn't I? But come, _good cousin_, surely you recognize that the tyrant did not act alone in his schemes. There was no way for him to have murdered Banquo, no slipped away to slit my family's throats. And he would not trust simple murderers to do all his dirty work."

"What are you implying, Macduff?" Ross asked stiffly.

"Why nothing at all, sir. Nothing at all. Only that you seem to have slid as easily as a snake through this story and emerged relatively... unscathed."

"I am loyal to the king!" Ross snarled.

"Aren't we all?" Macduff challenged. "Banquo was loyal, yet he no longer seems to be among us. I supported Duncan just as you did, yet I am left with a shell of a castle and no one to populate it, while you now have Cawdor.

"Tell me, _good cousin_, why it was that you knew of my family's demise, yet you first told me that they were well? How is it that kings so easily place their trust on you, yet you slide from reign to reign as effortlessly as the rest of us change clothing?"

"My loyalty lies with the king!"

"You keep saying that. Always 'loyal to the king'. Perhaps, Ross, but though others may be blind, I am not."

"Of what are you accusing me?"

"Oh, I think you know well enough without me telling you, good cousin. Besides, these stones are so recently washed of blood; t'would be a shame to dirty them once more."

"Why do you speak of blood, Macduff? Are you not satisfied with the death of the tyrant at your hands? Must you have more death to slake your bloodlust?"

"You call him a tyrant, yet for a time he was your king, and with him did your loyalties lie. I know what you are and what you've done, Ross, and in the end your hands are as red as mine or Macbeth's. I sometimes wonder that the guilt does not eat at you as it did the she-devil, who cast her skull against these very stones."

"Then make your accusations, Macduff, and end your ceaseless prattle!"

The two men fell silent, the sounds of the celebration at Macduff's back once again audible. Macduff was breathing deeply, fists clenched, while Ross pressed his lips into a thin line.

"I will make no accusations, Ross. But beware, o' Thane of Cawdor, for though you bear the title 'earl', the lands remain the same, and they do not forget the falls of your predecessors. And nor do I."

Ross, shaking with barely held back fury, spun on his heel and stalked away, the clops of his boots still audible long after he disappeared from sight. Macduff turned once again toward the festivities, the rage in his eyes dying down to embers.

"Beware, you enemies of Macduff. May you na'er find peace, in this life or the next, for I will not rest until you reach the latter."

Returning to his musings, Macduff's eyes gained a dreamlike air as visions of his wife and children danced through his mind. Soon enough there would be time for vengeance. And he knew exactly who his first target would be. Because Macduff was no idiot.


End file.
